


Whose Rules

by writernotwaiting



Series: Just Graduated [2]
Category: Unrelated (2007)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Smut, Jealous sex, Jealousy, Older Woman/Younger Man, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-07
Updated: 2015-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-08 05:43:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4292916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writernotwaiting/pseuds/writernotwaiting
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oakley gets a little jealous when his boss starts flirting with Jean, but turnabout's fair play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Whose Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Grades Are Due was supposed to be a one-shot, but then Tumblr's Sunday Smut Spotlight put out a call for "Angry Sex" fics. This was my self-indulgent response. Thanks bunches to notpedeka for putting on her bitchy English-major face and offering her editorial advice.

[*Text* _r ur grades done?_ ]

[*Text* _Almost._ ]

[*Text* _thinking of me?_ ]

[*Text* _Trying not to._ ]

[*Text* _ouch!_ ]

[*Text* _You’re distracting, and I have to get these papers finished._ ]

[*Text* _call me when ur done?_ ]

[*Text* _Promise._ ]

[*Text* _waiting_ _4 u_ ]

Jean snorted. _Hmph! Guess who the English teacher is in this conversation._

[*Text* _Got any plans on Friday?_ ]

[*Text* _might go to the cavern_ ]

Jean made a face. _Ick. I've had my lifetime supply of walking on sticky floors and smelling of sour beer._

[*Text* So maybe I’ll see you Saturday?]

[*Text* _maybe_ _friday late_ ]

[*Text* _Maybe — not that late, though_ :)]

_Oh, to be young._

She packed up her crap and headed up to the office.

*****

After polishing off the next-to-the-last stack of essays, Jean stretched painfully and decided to go grab some take out for lunch. The walk to the cafe helped clear her head and work out some of the stiffness that still lingered from the other night. She had sore muscles in places where she had forgotten she had muscles. On the way back, she rounded the corner of the stairs when she heard his voice.

There was no mistaking that smooth baritone — it couldn’t be anyone but Oakley. She almost turned the corner to say hi when she heard the giggle. _Ah, right. Oakley always has a flock of girls chirping around his ankles._

“You going out Friday?” he asked.

“Maybe. Lindsey wants to watch a movie.”

“Boring. You should come out with us.”

“Where to?”

“Same place. I’ll buy the first pitcher if you come,” he offered.

“Oh really? And what about later?” There was a distinct invitation to her voice.

“What about later?” There was a distinct smirk to his.

“Have you got something going on after?”

“Have you got any ideas?”

“Oh I can probably think of a few.”

That was enough for Jean, returning double time to her original path and heading up the rest of the stairs. _That dirty little shit!_ She collapsed into her desk chair and fumed properly, _“waiting 4 u” — yeah, you’re waiting all right, waiting from the comfort of Brianne’s apartment._

She opened up her sandwich and started chewing mindlessly as she grumped silently. _What a load of bullshit. “Not a one off” he says. He doesn’t bother to mention all of the other “not one offs” he’ll have going on at the same time._

She took another bite.

Then she snorted.

 _Are you seriously going to let yourself get worked up about this? You do know who you’re talking about, right? This child doesn’t just have a girl in every port, he’s got one for each pocket — Just. Like. Alan. (_ Alan being Alan-the-ex-husband, of course.) _And he’s leaving at the end of the summer. Getoveritgirl! Enjoy what you get and wake cheerfully when he leaves, because his sort never stay around. You’ve got much more important things to worry about._

She finished off her lunch, and got back to work.

Late that afternoon, Jean packed her crap up once again and started down the hall to the stairs, passing by the bio labs on her way.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself. How are things?” It was John Ryan — Oakley’s summer employer. John was that peculiar species that one occasionally finds in an environmental bio lab — an odd sub-genre of hippie who looks the part, but didn’t host any actual new-age neurons. His clothes were always sloppy — faded jeans with a perpetually untucked button down. He pulled his hair into a sloppy braid. His posture seemed slightly but not really slouchy. When he talked his gestures were all over the place. Initially, he always managed to give the impression that he was a bit of a flake, but as soon as you really started to talk to him, it was clear that he was both sharp and pragmatic — and fortunately, there were never any Birkenstocks in evidence. Jean thought he was endearingly boyish, and had rather nursed a crush for him well before she ever got divorced. Unfortunately, he had never shown any interest, though unfailingly friendly.

John came out of the lab to respond, “Oh, you know,” he started up, “the usual. I’ve got a couple of projects going for the summer, and managed to find some students to help out.”

“Sure.” Jean poked her head back at the open door and saw Oakley at one of the sinks.

She waved.

He nodded, “Hey.”

“Hey.”

John lobbed the question back to her, “What are you up to this summer?”

Jean shrugged, “the usual. I’ve got couple of writing projects I need to get going on. I’ll probably be in and out of the office most of the summer — I can never seem to get anything done at home.”

John nodded, paused a bit, then asked, “do you want to do something on Friday? This place has pretty well cleared out. Maybe we could order pizza and watch a movie if you like.”

“That sounds like fun,” she hedged. _Couldn’t you have asked me two weeks ago? Why now?_ On the other hand, she really couldn’t help an evil inner grin after what she had heard in the hall earlier, knowing that Oakley could hear the conversation. Maybe she would give him enough of an opening to redeem himself. “I’m not really sure what I’m doing on Friday. It seems like I was supposed to do something but now I don’t remember — you know me, I’m a bit of a flake. Will you be around tomorrow? I can check to see if there really is something I’ve forgotten.”

“Oh yeah, sure. No rush.”

Suddenly they heard a _crash_ and a “Shit!” came from the lab, pulling John’s attention away from the conversation.

John’s irritated face came out, “Aww, man!” and he raised his hands in frustrated resignation, “Oakley, what the fuck?”

“Sorry! I’ll clean it up.”

“Well, yeah, I figured. Go get the broom.” Jean poked her head in the lab behind John as he went to survey the damage. It was just some busted glassware — Oakley had been washing a few things by hand. She decided this might be an opportune time to make her exit.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?”

John waved at her from the sink, “Yeah, I’ll be around.”

As she turned to go, she caught a bit of a glare from Oakley as he returned from the closet. She turned away and started to walk down the hall, rolling her eyes, _Lord, men come not in single spies but in battalions. Well, that’s not exactly how the quote goes, but it’s petty apt, anyway._ She snorted to herself as she started down the stairs.

Three hours later, she was home on the couch with a book and a gin and tonic when the knock came on her door — maybe a little bit louder than necessary. Looking through the peephole she confirmed her suspicions — Oakley.

He launched in before she even closed the door. “So, you don’t know if you have any plans on Friday?”

“Well, it kind of sounded to me like you were going The Cavern Friday.”

“Maybe, but I was thinking I might come back here afterward.”

She rolled her eyes and smirked as she turned to walk into the kitchen, “Somehow I don’t think that thought occurred to you until after that little incident in the lab.”

“I told you, didn’t I?” his irritated voice followed her out, “I said I didn’t want that to be a one off.”

“You know,” she shot back over her shoulder at him, “you don’t get to have it both ways, Sweetheart.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?

Jean started to pour another gin and tonic. “What do you think it’s supposed to mean? Wasn’t that you sweet talking Brianne into a hook up for Friday?”

He clenched his jaw and turned beet red. Her smile got wider.

“I thought so — you are so busted!”

She made a second drink and handed it to Oakley without asking whether he wanted it. “Hun, I don’t do double standards. If the rules are good enough for the dog,” and she poked him in the chest hard, “then the same rules are good enough for the bitch,” and she poked herself.

He was pissed. He slammed the drink down onto the table and clenched his fists, his jaw tight. She walked past him into the living room.

“What?” she called over her shoulder, “hasn’t anyone ever called you on your shit?”

She heard a little strangling noise come from his direction.

She set her own drink down on the coffee table before she turned to face him, “Look, if you want an exclusive, then be exclusive. I am so over playing those kinds of games, Sweetie.” She walked over to the door and put her hand on the doorknob, “If you don’t like it, you can take your cute little ass elsewhere for the summer.”

He stalked over and stood in front of her, deliberately invading her space. His jaw was still clenched tight and his breath came in angry huffs. He raised his hand and pointed at her, opened his mouth as if to say something, snapped it shut again and lowered his arm.

Pause.

Repeat.

Jean leaned on the hand that held the doorknob, shoulder by her ear, hips askew, eyebrow raised, waiting for him to figure himself out.

He opened his mouth one more time.

Snapped it shut.

Then suddenly he was all over her. He lifted her clean off the floor, forcing her to wrap her legs around his waist or fall over, aggressively smashing his mouth into hers, forcing her lips open, scraping his teeth against hers.

_Jesus H. Christ!_

She held on for dear life, arms over his shoulders, fingers tight in his curls. He was already rock hard and pushing up against her sex.

His mouth left hers to leave a trail of sloppy kisses across her jawline, down her neck, then into the hollow of her collarbone, as he braced her against the door so he could move lower and mouth her breast through the fabric of her cami and bra before scraping across the fabric with his teeth.

“Dammit, Palmer,” he paused and ran his eyes from her mouth to her eyes then downward again, “I’ll play by whatever goddamn rules you want,” and he moved in for another fierce kiss before pulling the neckline of her shirt down so he could take her bare breast into his mouth.

She was gasping for air by now, practically hyperventilating with little whines every times he flicked her tight nipple with his tongue as he held it in his teeth. “Ohhh my god,” and she arched her back, aware of his every muscle fiber — shoulders tense, biceps hard and flexed as he supported her weight, his abs rippling as he bucked his hips against her.

He raised his head briefly as he looked for a surface to put her down on, opting to carry her over to the couch where he unceremoniously laid her down before stripping off his clothes in a rush.

Jean followed suit, as if any lost time meant losing everything.

Oakley braced his hands on the arm of the couch, caging her in, then began to run his hard cock over her wetness. She grabbed hold of his tight forearms and brought her knees up around his hips.

Her whimpers began coming louder now as she moved against him, raising up to try and catch him, to force him inside. “Awww fuck!” he sighed as he finally pushed as far up into her as he could go, then paused for what felt like an eternity while he lowered his mouth once more to hers, pushing his tongue inside as she opened her mouth to him and then pushed back, raising her head off the arm of the couch to meet him breath for breath.

As he started rocking his hips, almost unconsciously, Jean locked her ankles behind his back, then he gained speed as she let loose with some un-namable little noise every time he thrust home. “Oh. God. Yes. You bastard. Fuck me. Shit that feels so good.” Then another long, high pitched whine as she clenched around him.

That was enough to push him over the edge, “JESUS!”

He held himself still like that for a few long moments, biceps tight, as he looked down at her flushed face and down to her breasts. Slowly he eased himself off her and to the side, propping up his head with one hand and tracing feather-light lines across her body with the other.

Her eyes were barely open. She smiled softly and hummed contentedly at his touch. He moved his hand up to her face gently urging her to look up at him, “Hmmm?”

“I mean it, Palmer.”

“What?” She couldn’t help but smile more widely when she looked into those gorgeous eyes — for once earnest.

“I’ll play by whatever rules you want,” and he leaned in for a long, slow, breath-stealingly heart-stopping kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Bonus points for you if you can ID the Shakespeare reference.


End file.
